Today I ponder this as I wonder whether it's my iPhone that's making me dependent and dumb.

I bristle at the fact that I greet the morning light by rolling over and reaching for my phone to check â?? giddily â?? what awaits me (It's rarely anything more than an emailed coupon and news that there's a 30% chance of snow). If my phone was a guy I would have labeled our relationship as unhealthy, detrimental to my sense of self.

But the phone, after all, is not flesh and blood â?? as much as I anthropomorphize it. It's just plastic, stainless steel and aluminum â?? so I continue to stare and touch and poke and like. My phone is like my makeup â?? the equivalent of hope in a jar â?? encouraging me to think that maybe today will be the day when my life will be forever changed for the better with an unexpected email or phone call. Or, on very rare occasions, a 70% off coupon from a beloved retailer.

Besides, I need something to swipe at when everyone else is staring at their screens.

I guess I could play with my baby daughter.

So I do, and it's while I'm shaking her plush lion rattle and saying "Good girl, boo-boo!" that I realize I'm offended on her behalf. The discussion of limited screen time for babies and young children is just as dumb as our flip phones from 2010.

It's not the innocent tots that need limited screen time. It's their parents, glued to their phones at the dinner table, at yoga class, in the car, in line at the grocery store, at restaurants, rest stops, coffee shops and parks. The lure of the LED screen has hypnotized our retinas. Sometimes I feel lobotomized by my phone. Half the time my fellow citizens act lobotomized by their devices.

That's why I dream of an app, perhaps to emerge with the New Year, that shuts off Wifi and cellular capabilities to my phone for a set amount of time, while allowing only preprogrammed "emergency" numbers to get through. This app would be my intervention.

But until this app emerges through the technological ether (Hey, developers, call me!), I know I need to take matters into my own hands. I will remove the protective case from the phone, clean the device with alcohol and then hand it to my infant daughter. Her moist little hands will grab it, bring it to her mouth and then â?? as babies do â??drop it when she loses interest, hopefully shattering the phone and my addiction.

Maybe I'll strategically hold her over the toilet for effect, awaiting the phone's "plop!"

It's a good thing I have insurance on my plan to save my water-logged phone.

Hinda Mandell, teaches in the department of communication at the Rochester Institute of Technology in New York.